


i think i might sink and drown and die

by BuddysImpala



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Christmas, Dark, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Merry Christmas I think??, Poor Phineas, WTF, Winter, barlyle - Freeform, enjoy I think??, even though I’m literally triggered by animal death, have a holly jolly Christmas, methinks I need Jesus, poor phillip, um what the fuck did I just write, what the fuck Britt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 06:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16759717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala
Summary: The day P.T. found Phillip’s body was the day he went insane.





	i think i might sink and drown and die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melloneddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melloneddy/gifts).



Had he known that day at the circus would be the last day he’d ever see Phillip alive, he would have done so many things differently.

Had he known, sitting in their shared office after closing up the circus for the winter, as Phillip discussed plans to visit a distant, but loved cousin, that the next time he’d see Phillip, the man would be dead, he would have begged him not to go.

Had he known, as Phillip smiled at him one last time and tipped his top hat in a farewell gesture, that he would never speak to his partner again, he would have jumped up, grabbed Phillip by the arm, and said, “don’t go – I love you.”

Phillip might have smacked him across the mouth, but at least he’d be alive.

*

“Merry Christmas! Enjoy your holiday, Phil.”

At least they hadn’t parted on bad terms, but...

Those words, the last words P.T. Barnum ever spoke to Phillip Carlyle, seemed so insignificant now. In truth, they held no depth — just a mindless farewell he would have given anyone.

How many times had he wished random strangers on the train a Merry Christmas? He never thought anything of it before.

The man who had held his heart deserved more — so much more.

Now the holiday haunted him. Every night when he laid down as Phillip – poor, poor Phillip – rotted away in an icy cold grave, those words swirled around and around in his head. He closed his eyes, saw flashes of red and green whenever he slept.

Until he succumbed to the sweet release of unconsciousness, the last thoughts that registered in his mind were the last words of his partner, his Phillip.

“Merry Christmas, Phin. And, be good — I’ll be back before you know it.”

P.T. could still feel the ghost of Phillip’s lips against the corner of his mouth.

*

They had only been together a little over a month, perhaps a month and a half. It was still too early to tell anyone, but they’d discussed revealing their relationship to the troupe during the time span that the circus was shut down for the winter. That way, if any performers had an issue with their relationship, they’d be able to deal with it before the conflict effected their shows.

Now, they would never get the chance. And the troupe would, most likely, never know.

Why reveal new scandals, rubbing salt into fresh wounds that still ached, still burned, every time Phillip crossed one’s mind?

P.T. couldn’t do that to his troupe.

*

Phillip had issues, P.T. knew, and that was why he held back his true feelings, fearing that if he mentioned any mention of attraction more than lust, much less love, Phillip might flee for the hills. Before they’d ever gotten together, P.T. knew a bit of his history as the black sheep of the Carlyle family, but it was only after the first time they’d been together sexually that Phillip truly opened up. What started out as a night of passion and lust ended with Phillip weeping at the foot of the bed, P.T.’s arms around him and the warmth of their bodies pressed together as he detailed his father’s abuse through deep, shuddering breaths.

Being so much older than Phillip, P.T. knew he had to be careful in the way that he treated his partner, both romantically and emotionally. P.T. was usually a man who acted upon impulse, but theirs was a delicate situation — Phillip taught him to consider his words carefully. For once in his life, P.T. learned what it was to consider another person’s reactions and feelings before his own. As a result, when Phillip first announced that he was going to visit his cousin, P.T. nearly offered to go with him before remembering that a ringmaster accompanying his circus partner on a family visit wasn’t exactly ‘normal.’

So, Phillip bought a singular train ticket for the night that the circus closed for the season. P.T. certainly could have said ‘I love you’ on that last night — he felt strongly enough. It was only because of Phillip’s fragile approach to relationships that he thought twice and bit his tongue.

Now, he wished he hadn’t.

Phillip might have smacked him across the mouth. He might have cried then and there in P.T.’s arms. He might have fled, headed for home instead of the train station. He might have never spoken to P.T. again.

Maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of P.T. had hoped, he might have even said I love you back.

No matter how that could have turned out, at least he’d be alive.

*

He’d forgotten his train ticket.

In order to visit his cousin, Phillip had to ride a horse to the station and catch a train. But, in his excitement and in saying goodbye to P.T., he’d forgotten the ticket he’d bought in advance.

P.T. hadn’t noticed the ticket at first. It was perhaps an hour later, when he was getting ready to leave himself, when he finally realized that it had been left behind on Phillip’s desk.

Had he noticed the ticket sooner, he might have reached Phillip in time to save him. But nearly sixty long, deadly minutes ticked had by by the time P.T. noticed, and it took yet another five minutes for him to decide to go to the station himself. Phillip’s train would have been long gone by then, but he decided he’d feel better checking to see that Phillip had purchased another ticket and wasn’t waiting around stranded.

So, mind made up, P.T. tucked away Phillip’s ticket (‘just in case’) and shackled up his own horse.

There was no way he could have prepared himself for the horrors that awaited him.

The ringmaster hadn’t even realized that the body under the ice was his Phillip at first.

*

It was late and cold. People who weren’t traveling for the holidays were at home, slurping hot soup in front of roaring, crackling fires. Children were just coming inside after collecting firewood, taking off mittens and rubbing their hands together to desperately warm up freezing little fingers.

The train station was a little ways away, but the hoof-prints left by Phillip’s horse were still visible, as no fresh snow had fallen. For awhile, P.T. rode along the trail in silence, concentrating on the little puffs of air left by his own breath and the steady hoofbeats of his stallion.

New York had been replaced by a perfectly white winter wonderland, but the whimsical fantasy soon shattered when P.T. realized that Phillip’s trail had stuttered, and led off the road.

The ringmaster’s eyes followed the staggering hoof-prints off the road, leading toward a small, but deep pond. The water was frozen over, but the ice was thin, and – what was that?

A top hat laid forgotten in the snow beside the pond. Beyond it, P.T. realized that the pond wasn’t perfectly frozen over after all. Something big had broken through the ice.

What... was that?

There were two figures underneath the ice, one noticeably bigger than the other. An animal of some kind.

P.T. gently urged his horse forward. When the animal refused to go onto the ice, he got down and, not thinking very clearly, carefully made his way across the pond.

He stopped.

He stared.

He screamed.

*

Apparently, the horse had gotten stuck in the ice, but had died from the cold, it hadn’t drowned. P.T.’s mind had played tricks on him, had made him believe both bodies were trapped under the ice.

There had been no hope for Phillip. Trapped underneath the ice by the frightened, struggling horse,he had drowned quickly.

Nobody knew what had happened. It could only be assumed that the horse had spooked, had taken Phillip to the ice-covered pond against his will. The ice would have cracked easily underneath the horse’s weight. They were both in the water before they could even realize what was happened.

Apparently, P.T. screamed so much he’d lost his voice.

He didn’t remember screaming.

But he couldn’t speak.

They’d found him screaming, on his knees in the snow beside the pond.

*

When he found his voice again, he uttered but one phrase over and over and over again.

“My Phillip.”

*

My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip. My Phillip.

*

Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes Phillip was in that pond, drowned, alone, forgotten.

Could P.T. have saved him had he found the ticket sooner?

*

“Merry Christmas! Enjoy your holiday, Phil.”

(I love you)

“Merry Christmas, Phin. And, be good — I’ll be back before you know it.”

(Please come back)

*

Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes.

*

Christmas again.

He couldn’t tell the troupe. Couldn’t add salt to the wounds.

P.T. looked up when he heard the door open. The man who came into the room was gray-haired and grim-faced.

“Come with me, Mr. Barnum.”

*

The walls were gray. The floor was gray. The man’s hair was gray. P.T.’s outfit was gray.

He was led into a room. The gray-haired man left, closing the gray door behind him, as P.T. sat down in a gray seat. This other man, with gray skin and gray eyes, attempted to smile at him with gray teeth as he sat across P.T., folding his gray hands atop a gray desk.

“How are you today, Phineas?”

*

My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes. My Phillip. Sixty minutes.

*

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

60.

*

“Phineas? Are you with me?”

“My Phillip.”

“Phineas, are you aware of what day it is?”

“Sixty minutes.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Phineas.”

“Can’t tell the troupe, can’t let them know.”

“Phillip Carlyle passed away five years ago.”

“My Phillip.”

*

P.T. was led back to his room by the same gray-haired man that had taken him into the gray room. P.T. laid on his cot with his legs pulled up, facing the wall.

There was a knock on the door.

“My Phillip.”

The door opened and in came a nurse with his food on a tray. She set it on the table and cast him a pitiful glance.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Barnum.”

“Can’t let them know.”

She sighed and shook her head, clicking her tongue softly. The man had no way of knowing that he would soon be transferred to a higher care facility, come the new year.

“Good night, Mr. Barnum.”

P.T. completely ignored the nurse, seeming oblivious to the fact she was even in the room. He continued to stare blankly at the wall as the nurse shook her head one more time before leaving the room.

“Don’t go,” he spoke to no one.

A small smile curled the former ringmaster’s lips. He continued to stare at the wall, whose gray blank slate began to morph in front of his delirious eyes. Soon, Phillip laid on the cot next to him. He faced P.T., smiling gently as he reached out to softly caress P.T.’s cheek.

P.T. closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks as he leaned into the nonexistent touch.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck  
> uh, comment if you wanna  
> Imma go to church now


End file.
